Chapter Thirty-four
Eagle
The next morning, three more brothers show up at the cabin. Tonsils sent two additional members to search Shreveport and the surrounding area yesterday. I’m a madman, unable to stay calm. Angel might be dead, it’s a reality I face now. This situation reeks of revenge—Dead Dog style.
After making a dozen phone calls and getting nowhere, Cannon brings me a cup of coffee and his cell phone. “I think you need to take this call,” he says.
“Who the fuck is it?”
“Tito.”
“Tito?”
“Lazaro’s cousin.”
The motherfucker who tried to rape Angel? I hold the phone to my ear. “Don’t waste my time,” I warn.
“Missing something you want back?” he asks.
I slam my fist on the table and lean forward in my chair. “Where the fuck is my wife?”
“Calm down,vato,” he says.
“Where is she?”
“Safe for the moment,” he answers. “But I can’t guarantee it for too long. Its gonna cost you.”
I switch the phone to speaker. “How much?”
“Twenty G’s, bro.”
“Where and when?”
Cannon writes all the information down while I keep the lecherous bastard on the phone. When he’s finished giving me the details, I give him dire warning. “If this turns out to be bullshit, Tito, I’m coming for you.”
He chuckles. “I just want the money.” He hangs up.
Luckily I have a safe stocked with fifty thousand in untraceable bills. It doesn’t take long to gather the money and ride to the rendezvous point Tito designated. Three of us arrive at a pavilion on the Red River, five miles from the cabin.
An hour later, a late model Ford pickup truck slowly approaches us from the south. It parks a few yards away from our bikes and two men get out. One has a high-powered rifle and points it in our direction while Tito struts over, confident he’s safe.
It takes everything I have to keep from beating the shit out of Tito and then putting a bullet through his skull. I pat the Glock I keep in my waistband. Cannon steps in front of me and deals directly with the motherfucker.
“There’s twenty thousand in this envelope,” Cannon says. “Show me what you got.”
Tito offers him a pile of photographs. After Cannon thumbs through them, he hands them to me.
There’s shots of Angel and I from outside her apartment in Texarkana, at the cabin, and in Holly Beach. Even one of us making love in the front yard a couple days ago. I crumple the photos and drop them on the ground, growling as I launch myself at Tito. I grab a fistful of his shirt and land two punches on his face before his partner shouts.
“Touch him again and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
I immediately back off.
“Enough evidence to get your attention, bro?” Tito asks.
I nod.
“Give me the money.”
